You Can Never Go Home Again
by ArianaKir
Summary: The duties of being the captain of Crossroad Keep weigh heavily upon a young druid. How will she handle her growing apprehension of the coming war and her growing despondency?
1. Returning home?

_Author's Note: I have taken some liberties with the characters. Nevalle's profession may or may not be what I have portrayed it as here. I also wish to state that I do not own the characters or the setting, those belong to Obsidian and Atari. Enjoy! Comments and critiques are always welcome._

They say you can never go home again. Once you leave, you change; your home changes, and when you return it is different than you remember. The people and the buildings may be the same. They may haunt the same places and do the same deeds that they did before you left. But they are imperceptibly different. It is no longer home, as you remember it. The comfort and welcome is gone, a shadow of its former self. You have changed, and the world has changed with you.

OOO

The keep looked the same – newly quarried stone gleaming in the wane light of twilight. Pennons flapped in the brisk wind from towers that weren't even there a fortnight ago. The place bustled with activity: Grey Cloaks walked the walls; messengers entered and left by the gate; farmers worked in the fields. It was a busy, vital outpost of civilization in a sea of wilderness. It was hers. Her home, if any place could be. But since that day she'd been forced by circumstances to leave West Harbor, she hadn't felt truly at home anywhere. Especially not here, at this keep. Yes, by title and deed it belonged to her now. But the walls enclosed her, made her feel vulnerable and weak. The stone surrounded her and cut her off from the web of life. It was no small thing for a druid to own property: it was frowned upon in druid circles. It was not done. But she had done it, in service of a greater good and in the name of keeping the balance.

The path that led her here had been perilous and fraught with surprise. Companions had joined her, seeking safety in numbers on a dangerous path. Planar beings hunted her, searching for shards of a silver sword. A city had cried out for her aid, when no one else would give it. She had acquiesced to it all, the slowly building burden of responsibility for others; for land; for a purpose. It chafed her to be in charge of other people. Always she had felt her path lay in the ways of Nature. The only role she had sought was one of protector of the wild. Then in one life shattering night, a purpose had been thrust upon her. A destiny forged when she was but a babe, and one she could not out run or ignore. Now here she was, a knight of Neverwinter: owner of Crossroad Keep and the only thing standing between civilization and complete annihilation. She was 20 years old, and her frame felt too young to bear this kind of service and responsibility.

Beside her walked Zhjaeve and Qara. The Githzerai was implacable, as ever. There was never a hint of any emotion on her face. Whatever she thought was hers alone: there was no reading her through her facial expressions. You just had to wait until she deigned to speak to you of her wisdom. Qara was almost her opposite in that regard. Tempestuous, fiery and arrogant, the young sorceress seemed to feel that the world owed her something. Why she still bothered to travel with them, Kylie didn't know. She had her uses, but her lack of control had fried them all on many occasions. She had been strangely subdued in their walk back to Crossroad Keep. Now that their destination was finally in view, however, Qara was returning to her brash demeaning manor.

"Why don't we have horses? Then we wouldn't have to walk everywhere like servants. We could just ride here and ride there and it would take a lot less time!" she said, flinging her arms about as she talked.

"No stables," Kylie answered. "Are you in that much of a hurry to face the King of Shadows?"

"N..No." Qara said. She shot Kylie a fiery look. "But that still doesn't explain…"

"Enough, Qara. Just be happy we got back in one piece. That elemental had your name written all over it, after all. I might as well not have even gone on that little expedition. All Sidney Natale wanted was you dead and Zhjaeve to read those names to her. I was just background, this time."

"Without you, know that we would not have succeeded in gathering these names to us," the zerth said. "Know that you were necessary, so that we may all survive."

"Well, thanks, Zhjaeve, but I still think I could have stayed at the keep. Maybe I should have sent Casavir with you, or Khelgar. They could have kept you alive just as well as I did: perhaps better. It's what they're suited for after all."

"Maybe you should have sent the paladin or the dwarf. At least then we wouldn't have to be returning to find that man here," Qara piped in.

"We needed another sergeant. He'll do. I have to remember to get him assigned to some duty tomorrow. Don't worry, Qara, you won't have to interact with him, unless you want to." She gave the sorceress a sly look. Qara was red faced and looked flustered. Kylie smiled to herself. A man might be just the thing that Qara needed to gain some stability.

The three walked on in easy, if not quite companionable, silence. Soon they were passing through the farm fields leading up to the keep. When they had all first come to this place, the fields were overgrown with weeds and saplings and full of rocks. Now they were plowed and planted with all kinds of crops, ready and waiting to feed the hungry mouths living in and around the keep. Part of her had cringed at the transformation from unkempt wildness to cultivated rows. It screamed against her druidic nature. But as the lady of this keep, the cultivation and order were necessary to feed her growing populace. It was another one of those concessions against her nature she'd had to make in order to fight this war.

Too soon they were inside the walls. Ammon Jerro was waiting by the gate, as if he had known they would return today, at this time. Well, maybe he did at that. The man was enigmatic. He knew things that he shouldn't, and he applied his considerable talents to get his way in matters. But the truth was he probably saw them from the walls as they made their slow approach. When they had left on this journey, he had made it quite clear that he would be anxiously awaiting their return.

"Did the Natale woman have anything of interest?" he asked, his voice grating on Kylie's last nerve.

As they spoke, Qara slunk off towards the main building. She enjoyed spending time in the library, which was odd. She had often railed on and on about the indignity of having to learn sorcery from books. Kylie personally thought there was something about Sand that intrigued Qara, but whether it was love or hate she didn't want to know. Sand was often in the library, and Qara was often skulking around outside it. It had to be where she was heading to now. Kylie really didn't think Aldanon was the one holding any pull for the sorceress.

"She did, actually," and with that Kylie and Zhjaeve spoke of what they'd found to Ammon. As they talked, the sun set and the sky flared red and purple. Just as the last light was fading from the purpled clouds, their conversation finished. Kylie walked up to the keep, and into her room.

Exhaustion hit her. She had been 4 days on the road, and one of those days had involved a fight for her life and the lives of her companions and the new sergeant she'd recruited out from under Sydney Natale. The Luskan mage was dead, but that didn't mean their troubles with the Hosttower were over. The reality of their situation hit her hard. They had very little time left to muster defenses against the King of Shadows. No one was coming to help them. In the end, the battle would fall here. It would be up to her to etch a victory out of the coming darkness.

She removed her travel stained leathers and laid them outside her door for the servants to clean and mend. The only thing on her mind right now was some rest and relaxation, and not in that particular order. Donning a simple pair of breeches and a brown tunic, she left her room to find some solace in a mug at the inn.


	2. Chance Meetings

The Phoenix was lively, as it hadn't been before she left. Whether it was the coming doom that inspired her men to live it up, or the addition of a bard to the place she couldn't tell. The inn wasn't quite full, but it was jumping with an intensity that almost knocked her over when she walked in. Khelgar manned his post at the bar, well into his 5th tankard by the looks of him. Bishop sat alone at a table halfway between the bar and the door. His back was to the wall, and he was watching everything and everyone around him. Casavir and Sand were playing castles at a table under one of the windows, and Bevil was nursing a pint at the bar.

Kylie made her way to the bar and ordered an ale from Sal. She scanned the customers, looking for a likely place to sit. Her eyes fell on Casavir and Sand as they played their game. They were always good company. That and the paladin would want an update on what she encountered on her trip. Sand would be interested in the information about the true names as well.

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked, coming to stand next to Casavir.

The paladin looked up at her, smiling as he did so. "Of course not, Knight Captain."

"Do you have to call me that?" she asked, sitting between the two of them. She pushed her chair back against the wall so it leaned on two legs and plopped her feet on the table.

"Do you have to do that?" asked Sand, his annoyance obvious. "We're in a pitched confrontation of wits here." He made his next move, triumph written all over his face.

"Sand, are you taking advantage of my paladin?" she asked, taking a hearty swig of her ale.

"He is surprisingly good at this game, for a half wit," the mage said.

"You should never underestimate your opponents," Casavir said in that staid tone of his. But he shot Kylie a quick glance, and the gleam in his eye said volumes. He was enjoying the elf's discomfiture over the game.

Kylie didn't play castles: she couldn't tell one piece from another. It was all about strategy and moves, and thinking ahead. It wasn't what she was good at. But the interaction between the two men was always fun to watch. She sat there, watching the two of them circle each other around the board; Sand occasionally throwing out barbed gems from that sarcastic wit of his. She and Casavir traded words on her trip to see Natale. Sand gleamed with barely suppressed joy upon hearing that she had been forced to kill the mage. Then she heard the inn's door open and looked up.

Nevalle of the Nine walked in. His ever-present blue tunic with the eye was absent. Instead he was sporting some leathers that looked remarkably like the ones that Bishop wore. Kylie hadn't seen him in here before. He was always up at the main keep, talking to Kana or out in front of the tower, talking to the men. When he was here at Crossroad Keep at all, that is. He traveled back and forth from here to Neverwinter so he could be Lord Nasher's eyes and ears on the front lines of the preparations.

Kylie watched him order a drink and then sit down at an empty table. Casavir and Sand were still engrossed in their game. As entertaining as they could be, she was looking for a little more personal interaction.

"I'll catch you guys later," she said as she stood. She looked over at Bishop to find him watching her every move. Smiling, she walked over to him and placed her hand on the arm of his chair. She leaned in close to his face.

"Is there something you need, Bishop?" she asked, her voice silky and smooth. Her hand rested on his chest and playfully toyed with the buttons there. Baiting the ranger was too easy. His wit was sharp and sarcastic, but behind it there was a great depth of passion. But whether that passion was for love or death she hadn't been able to determine. They had enjoyed a tit for tat sort of relationship where he made inappropriate remarks and she teased him mercilessly, but nothing ever happened between them. Yet.

"Is that a proposition, Captain? Because if it is, I just might take you up on that. And you shouldn't promise things you aren't prepared to deliver." His eyes never left her face. His hand reached up and covered hers, and a jolt ran through her.

"What makes you think I wouldn't be prepared to deliver?" She leaned her face closer to his where she could feel his breath on her face. Then she backed up a little, giving the man some breathing room. "I noticed you watching me, that's all. I thought perhaps you had something you wanted to say to me."

For a split second, he hesitated. Then it was gone as he said, "Waiting for me to declare my undying love for you? Well, that just isn't going to happen." He rocked back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glaring at her with as much contempt as he could muster. "Go back and talk to the paladin if you want some flowery poetry read to you. When you're ready for a real man, come back and talk to me."

She smiled at him and then she laughed. Her hand stroked his cheek and she bent over to whisper in his ear, "Someday I might actually take you seriously, ranger. I'd watch out if I were you. You might be sorry."

Kylie left, letting her hips sway a little, knowing that Bishop was watching. This game she played with him was dangerous, and some day it would go too far. Someday she feared she would give in to the building desire she felt for him. But the desire warred with her common sense and that told her to beware of the man. So far, her common sense won over every time. But the day would come, she feared, when her desire would win and she would be the one who was sorry.

Sal refilled her drink, and she tipped her mug to Khelgar. Then she searched the room again, finding her eyes resting on Nevalle. He was sitting, drinking his beer and listening to the bard. His foot tapped with the rhythm of the lute, and he looked happy. Kylie barely knew the man, for all the time they'd spent together working out the defenses of the keep. Maybe she should change that situation. Her feet took her over to his table, almost of their own accord.

"Hey, Nevalle. Mind if I sit with you?"

OOO

_Not all of the Nine of Neverwinter were fighters by trade. Some were spellcasters, some were masters of shadow and information gathering. One was a scout. He had been born to nobility, but in a fit of pique at his father had taken up the calling of a ranger. Nevalle was a damn fine scout, and he had proven his worth to Lord Nasher time and time again. _

_The buck was standing still in front of him, not 20 feet away. Most of the afternoon had passed while he waited in this spot, waiting for this deer to come here. He already had an arrow nocked. As soon as the animal turned to face him, he let the arrow go. It flew straight and true and struck the buck right in the heart. The deer fell over, dead. Nevalle allowed himself a little smile. _

_An hour later, he walked toward Crossroad keep, the buck's carcass slung over a shoulder and a tune on his lips. It had been a glorious afternoon, doing what he loved to do best: track and hunt. Many months had passed since he had had the opportunity to do this. At least the keep was giving him the excuse to go out and hunt for food. He found the provision sergeant and handed him the deer._

_There was nothing like a successful hunt to make a man feel alive, and nothing like celebrating one with a drink in a good tavern. But since a good tavern was only to be found back in Neverwinter, he'd have to make due with the Phoenix. The strains of a lute and singing as he approached the door made him revise his opinion of the place, however. If Sal had managed to get a bard, then the evening might turn out fine indeed._

_He pushed the door open and walked into the dim room. The music of the bard wasn't bad, and the place actually seemed to thrum with the desperate energy of men and women trying to laugh in the face of death. Looking around, he saw that many of the Knight Captain's companions had chosen to frequent the Phoenix tonight. And there, sitting with Casavir, was the Knight Captain herself._

_She sat with her back to the wall, the chair tipped precariously on two legs and her feet propped up on the table in front of her. A pint of beer was in her hand, and an easy, relaxed expression on her face. She looked up at him as he walked into the bar, smiled and then said something to Casavir and Sand. Nevalle found himself a seat at one of the tables near the stage._

_He tried not to notice Kylie get up and go over to Bishop. He tried, most days, not to notice her at all. It was difficult. There was something about her that spoke to him. Maybe it was because she was a druid. The call of nature spoke to like people. Maybe it was because of the equanimity she exhibited when she was here. He hadn't been out in battle with her, but he'd heard that she was quite formidable with both spell and sword. Mostly he figured it was because she drew people to her like moths to a flame. They circulated in her influence; basking in her warmth and hoping for the day that she would take notice of them and draw them in, cleansing them with her fire. _

_Bishop said something to her and she left him to go to the bar. Nevalle watched the other ranger, aware that there was more to this man than there appeared. Bishop's eyes never left the Knight Captain: he watched her always. He seemed to be caught in her flame, and it was slowly consuming him. He was dangerous, but Nevalle was fairly certain that Kylie knew that._

"_I can't believe you actually won a game!" he overheard Sand say to Casavir. The paladin was chuckling at the mage, who had packed up his board in a huff. Casavir was another man seemingly caught in the druid's web. He had come to Nevalle just last week, asking for advice on women and how best to state one's affections for them. Of course Nevalle knew who he was talking about, but he had acted ignorant to save the paladin some embarrassment. What he had told him was that he didn't have much experience in the matter, and that the truth was usually the best way to approach the situation. It was a lie, but he didn't want to get in the middle of anything._

_Growing up a noble in Neverwinter meant lots of women fawning at your feet. So many women had tried to trap him into a loveless marriage just for the sake of his title. Luckily he had been smart enough not to fall for any of them. The traps they laid would put a veteran thief to shame. Nevalle had more experience with women than he wanted to admit, and none of it was good._

_A wife wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but he wanted a woman who could hold her own. A woman who wasn't after him for his title, or his name, or status or gold. When he found a woman who wanted him for himself, he would settle down. Somebody like the Knight Captain, for example. "No, stop thinking about her right now," he thought to himself. "I am not going to be one of the men circling her, waiting for her attentions to fall to me." He drained his mug of beer and signaled to the serving girl to bring him another. _

"_Hey Nevalle, mind if I join you?" _

_There she was, Kylie Amtaren, standing right in front of him, showering her attentions on him. What was that he'd been thinking about before? Something about not being one of those men? Screw it. _


	3. Conversations

Nevalle looked up in surprise. "Why? I mean, no, please sit down." He pulled out the chair next to him. "I'm just a little surprised that you'd want to talk to me, that's all.

"Just thought I'd get to know our local representative from Lord Nasher," she said, taking the proffered seat with an easy grace.

"My lady, **you** are the local representative from Lord Nasher. I'm just here to be his eyes and ears while you are out gallivanting around the countryside."

"Is that what you call it? I prefer to call it my daily brushes with death and dismemberment. And please – don't call me 'my lady'. I'm Kylie. I get enough of the 'my lady' business from Casavir. And don't call me captain, either. Bishop calls me that in that derogatory tone of his, and every time someone else calls me by that title it makes me cringe. Just call me Kylie."

"Kylie it is then." He sipped his drink and stared at the stage, trying hard to come up with something witty to say. The pause drew out and went from a pause in the conversation to awkward silence. He spoke again.

"This bard is actually quite good." Oh Silvanus that was lame. You'd think a member of the Neverwinter Nine could come up with something a little better than that.

"Well, his music is easier to listen to than Grobnar's, that's for certain," Kylie said as she eased herself back into the chair. "Don't get me wrong: Grobnar is wonderful as a battle bard. But as entertainment? He's a little hard to take. There have been a few times I thought I'd have to step in to keep Bishop from slitting his throat on the road. His melodies sound ok, but the topics that he sings about, they defy explanation. If I have to sit through another rendition of 'The lucky whitethorn', I think I'll be the one they have to pull off his throat."

Nevalle laughed, his mirth spilling over to her and she laughed with him. The awkwardness eased a little and she hazarded a glance at him. The laughter sparkled in his eyes, motes of light dancing in his irises. Kylie didn't know why she hadn't sought him out earlier to talk to. He was the only one here who didn't look to her for guidance. He only made her aware of Lord Nasher's wishes – he didn't tell her how to carry them out. He treated her as an equal, because that was what she was. Her companions were her equals too, but increasingly they had come to depend on her for direction. They followed her, willingly or not. Her decisions were the ones that carried weight, even though some of those decisions were reached at by consensus. It was her word that got the deed done. It was tiring.

They sat in silence, drinking and listening to the bard. The moments drew out, and she had begun to feel awkward about being here with him. Then the bard's set was over, and he looked at her and smiled.

Taking that as a cue to strike up a conversation, she asked, "So, what's with the get up?"

He looked at her, confusion evident on his face. "I was out hunting."

"Hunting."

"Yes, where you take pleasure in the sport of tracking an animal and then killing it. Usually for food, sometimes for trophy. I was hunting red deer, to help supply this keep with meat." His sarcasm wasn't lost on her.

"I didn't realize you hunted," she said quietly.

Nevalle laughed. "I'm sure there are a lot of things you don't know about me. Just as there are a lot of things I don't know about you." He pause and took another sip of his drink. Then comprehension dawned on him. "Wait. You … you thought I was a paladin, didn't you?" he smirked at her.

"Yes," she said, grateful not to reveal that herself. "Damn my foster father anyway," she said under her breath.

"What was that?" Nevalle asked.

"Nothing. My foster father is a ranger as well." Inwardly she groaned. Men of the wood seemed to dog her every step. What was worse was how she seemed to subconsciously seek them out, like a moth to the flame.

"Not all of the Nine are fighters or paladins. You yourself are not, are you?" Nevalle was saying.

"I'm not one of the Nine. I turned that offer down," she replied, draining the rest of her pint.

"That's right. I had forgotten. You seem to take your responsibilities here seriously."

"I don't have a choice, do I?" she asked. It was a sore spot with her. She had never sought this life: a keep, companions and regiments of men to command. It was more something that Casavir was born to do, not her. It chafed at her, living in these walls of stone. She lived for the forays outside the walls. Luckily those came often, and lasted long. But the responsibility for all of the people here: that was what bothered her the most. That was what kept her up at night, pacing her room, trying to come up with an alternative solution that didn't involve her leading men and women into battle. So far nothing had come to her.

Kylie had turned her thoughts inward at the mention of the keep and her responsibilities. Nevalle was desperately trying to come up with something else to change the topic and get her talking again.

"So tell me about your family. You're from West Harbor, right?" he asked, hoping the change in conversation would get her talking again.

"Yeah, I am. There's not much to tell. I didn't know my mother – she died when I was a baby. Of my father I know even less. I was raised by my foster father – a wild elf who spent much time away from the village. He stayed as long as he could tolerate the company, for my sake. Then he would disappear into the mists for a few weeks. He left me with a local family when he had to go. I don't know him all that well either. But he taught me a love of the land that I still have today. He also gave me a great deal of latitude to make my own mistakes. I spent the majority of my youth exploring the mere: climbing trees; discovering caves; lying under the trees; hell, I even floated in the Mere itself. I don't recommend it – too many leeches.

What about you? What do your parents and your wife think of you being one of the Nine? They must be proud."

"Well, my mother is proud. My father is another story. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps and become a Champion of Torm, just like him. It was his greatest disappointment when I slunk off and became a ranger, just to spite him. As for my wife – there isn't one. I've never married."

Their eyes met, hers surprised, his gleaming. "Truly, you have no wife?"

"Is it that hard to believe?" he asked, laughing.

"I just assumed… I mean… You're a **noble**. I figured there were women lining up around the block to take your hand and your titles for theirs."

"Well, there was a time when that was true. I think they've all given up by now, though. You're a noble too, you know. Knighting will do that to a person." He winked at her again.

"So why aren't you married?"

"Why do you care?" he retorted.

"Just curious, that's all." She went to sip at her beer, finding it empty, and fiddled with the handle, trying to look nonchalant. But her heart was hammering in her chest. This wasn't really the direction she had intended this conversation to move. It just sort of came out of her, like some sort of verbal tick. "Do you not fancy women?"

Nevalle almost choked on his beer. He put it down hard, and gave her a stern look. "Yes, I fancy women. What's this about?"

Kylie sighed. "Just asking, is all. I don't know you very well. I'm making conversation." She spun her cup around and around with her hands, the action helping her avoid his look.

"So why do all your questions have to do with my marital status and whether or not I fancy women? Never mind," he said with a wave of his hand. "I'll just have to make you equally uncomfortable to pay you back."

"Fair enough, I suppose. Do your worst," she said, cupping both hands around her mug.

"If you had to choose one of your entourage to spend your days with, who would it be? Casavir or Bishop?"

Her mouth opened in an 'O' of surprise. "What?" she choked out.

"Well, it's obvious that they both favor you. For example," Nevalle gestured toward Bishop. "He has been watching you since I walked in. He follows your every move. Now, he's very sly about it. It takes a practiced eye to see that he always knows exactly where you are. I get the impression, both from what I know of him and the feral look in his eyes, that he isn't watching out for you out of the goodness of his heart." He winked at her. Then he nodded in Casavir's general direction. "He has confessed to me that he has feelings for you, and wanted some advice." Nevalle smiled that wicked smile of his.

She looked at him, surprise still on her face. "Well, I… I knew about Casavir. I, I mean I knew that there was something going on in his head. He hasn't really said anything to me. It's just the way he acts around me – all formal and proper. I've seen him let down his hair, so to speak, with some of the others. Sand, for instance. But with me? Never. So I suspected there was more than meets the eye.

Bishop – well, I know he watches me. It is a little disconcerting at times, especially on the road. I've woken up to find him inches from my face, breathing in time with me. I always figured if I didn't show any fear he wouldn't attack. But to be honest, Nevalle, I don't think I could spend the rest of my days with either of them."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Casavir is honorable to a fault. Don't get me wrong – he's a good man. But he doesn't seem to bend. He's too rigid. I don't think my world view has any place in his world. I don't think he's passionate enough for me."

"Don't be so sure," Nevalle muttered under his breath.

"And Bishop? I admit I like the bad boy image he puts out. But the problem with him is it's absolutely true. He's bad to the bone. As far as Casavir is to the good, Bishop is to the bad. I tend to like my men a little more in the middle. Besides, it's more complicated than that."

"How so?"

"They always look to me for advice. 'Where do we go now, Captain? How shall we defeat the Shadow Reavers, Captain?' I never wanted to be in charge of anyone. Growing up in West Harbor, I only wanted to leave the village and explore the world. But not the world of men – I wanted to run through the forests; climb the mountains; sing across the clear blue lakes and swim in the ocean. I wanted to travel to the Spine of the World and talk with the ancient dragons that live up there. I wanted to commune with the trees and be friends with the dryads. I never imagined that I'd end up here.

So to answer your question, I wouldn't choose to spend the remainder of my days with either of them. Not without a major personality change. Maybe if they could merge and become one person…"

Nevalle laughed, his eyes sparkling and his cheeks beginning to blush red from the alcohol. "I knew I liked you," he said, drinking deeply from his mug.

Kylie couldn't resist. She leaned closer to him and whispered seductively in his ear, "How much do you like me?"

The blush deepened and spread across his whole face. He put his drink down and looked into her eyes. What he saw there was playfulness, but behind it was a serious question. He found he couldn't answer her.

She put her hand on his knee. Still whispering in his ear, she said, "Because I like you quite a bit." Then, taken aback by her own audacity, she sat back in her chair, a blush rising on her cheeks. She looked away from him then, and saw Bishop looking at her, a scowl on his face. He met her eyes and then pointedly looked away.

Nina, the tavern maid, came up and refilled her drink. The bard got back up on the stage and began a rousing song about some hapless young thief from Waterdeep and his love for a noble woman. Still Nevalle said nothing. Kylie was just beginning to think she should get up and leave when she felt his hand on her elbow. Looking at his face, she saw conflicting emotions roiling across his face. He looked pained, and at the same time, happy. It left her confused.

Nevalle leaned into her, so she could hear him over the music.

"I like you quite a bit, too, Kylie," he said, his voice loud enough to be heard, but still soft enough that no one else would know what he was saying. "But I don't know what to do about it."

She looked at him sharply, her heart hammering a little faster now. "Me neither," she said.

The next few hours passed in a haze of beer and music, the latter getting better as more of the former was imbibed. Kylie sat there with Nevalle, neither of them saying much, but it felt like volumes were passing between them. He would give her a look, during a certain phrase of the bard's song, and she seemed to know what he was thinking. Or she would nudge him and wink, pointing at a couple of off duty soldiers making out in the corner.

Every now and then, Kylie would look over to the table at which Bishop sat to find him still looking at her. She smiled and waved at him once. He looked back, unblinking. The man was scary sometimes. Casavir and Sand had long ago finished their game and left the bar. The night was wearing on, and soon all that were left in the bar were her, Nevalle and Bishop. Sal came over to them.

"Look, I know you two are having a good time, but I'd like to close the place down. Please leave, and take Bishop with you."

Nevalle looked around, noticing for the first time that everyone else had left. He hadn't realized: he'd been having such an enjoyable time talking to Kylie. He stood and offered her his arm. "My lady? Shall I escort you back to your room?"

A loud snort came from Bishop's direction. Nevalle looked up to see the tavern door closing, and Bishop was no where to be seen. Kylie was grabbing his arm and murmuring her assent.

They made their way back to the keep, stumbling a little in the dark and their inebriation. There was some giggling, on Kylie's behalf, and some accidental slips of the hand, on Nevalle's. In due time, they were standing outside the door to Kylie's chambers.

"I'd invite you in, but I don't think you'd accept," she said.

"I do have appearances to keep up, after all. As much as I might like to take you up on that non existent offer, I wouldn't be able to." A look of regret passed through his features. He cupped her chin with his hand, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"I enjoyed getting to know you a little better, Kylie." Then he bent down and brushed his lips across hers. He dropped his hand and gave her a little bow. Then he walked off to his own room in the keep, leaving her standing there in shock.


	4. Momentary Solace

Once inside her room, she shut the door and sank to the floor. She was happy. Happier than she'd been in a long time. Her hand went up to her lips to touch the spot where he'd kissed her. It hadn't been much, but it was a promise of things to come, she felt.

It was late, and she was very tired. She undressed and crawled into her bed wearing a loose shift of cotton. As she drifted off to sleep, she found herself thinking of Nevalle. Of a fairy tale come true where the knight in shining armor is actually a ranger, and the King of Shadows is just Bishop, lurking in the corner.

OOO

The sun shone in through the window, lighting up the dust motes in the air. The beams traveled across the space of her room to land softly on Kylie's face. The warm kiss of the sunlight woke her from her untroubled sleep. It was still relatively early, and the keep was quiet.

She slipped into her unbleached druid's robe and trod barefoot across the stone of the keep. Silently she went from her room to the hall, then outside. She crept from shadow to shadow, hiding from the guards up at this early hour. The front gate was easy to sneak through, because the guard there was busy eating some kind of hard roll and talking to another Grey Cloak.

Once she reached the fields, she fled as fast as she could, running towards the small copse of trees to the north. There was a stand of rowans there. Six trees, sprouted from a fallen giant, all in a circle. The center of that circle was alive with the slow somnambulence of the trees. Their serenity and peace pervaded there, and it had become her refuge from the keep and all it entailed.

Once she set foot within that circle, she became a druid again. She couldn't feel her power too well, inside those walls of stone and wood. But out here, within this circle of wood, she felt powerful; tied to the earth. She had found the place quite by accident, and had considered herself exceedingly lucky at the time. Rowan was the best wood to fashion staves out of, and she had collected a lot of the old branches and squirreled them away in the keep.

She made her way there again, to seek solace in the glade. The sunlight came down, dappled through the small green leaves to make a mottled pattern on the grass in the center. Here, she stood, holding her arms out and reaching out with her senses. The birds were chirping; squirrels were chattering; a cicada droned on, looking for a mate. Deeper she delved, harder she listened, until she could hear the beating heart of the tree itself. Sap moved slowly along the capillaries, bringing with it life and nourishment. The leaves soaked up the light, turning the rays into food and shuttling it down to the heart of the tree. Bugs crawled in the dirt around the roots, helping the tree more than hurting it. There was a connectedness here that replenished her.

Something brushed against her, and her reverie was broken. A few hours had passed. She looked down to see Meliynn, her wolf friend. "I suppose I'm wanted, back at the keep, eh Meliynn? A few hours here and there will have to be enough." But it wasn't. She wanted to spend a few days here, communing with the tree, taking its measure. It was a magical tree, and she was lucky to have found it so close to the keep. But her duties called to her, pulling her out of her spiritual union with the tree and out of herself.

Kylie sighed and began walking back towards the cold stone buildings. For a few brief hours, she had forgotten her duties; forgotten her responsibilities. She had almost forgotten herself. Every step she took back to the keep brought those duties and responsibilities closer to her, until they fitted over her like a shroud. With every step closer to the keep she shed the inner lightness of the trees and took on the aspect of Knight Captain.

There was no reason to sneak back into the keep. People were probably looking for her, so letting the guard see her would be best. She crossed the fields, a free spirit clothed in a white robe with leaves and sticks clinging to her hair. Elanee would be proud. Some day, she'd have to share the rowan circle with her, but for now she was keeping it to herself.

No sooner had she crossed the confines of the gate than Nevalle was on her.

"Where were you? We were worried," he said, brushing the leaves out of her hair.

She smiled a tired, sad smile. "I needed to get away for a few hours. Get back to my roots, so to speak," she chucked at her own pun. "Did I miss something?"

"Well, no. But you know they can't run this place without you," Nevalle said. He leaned a little closer, "I didn't chase you off, did I?"

"Oh heavens no!" she exclaimed, looking up at him in alarm. "It's just, all this stone… It wears on me. I have a little spot in the woods north of here where I go to center myself. I can lose myself so completely, there, that…" she looked up at him, her eyes dreamy and far away. "Never mind. You probably wouldn't understand."

"Oh, I understand more than you realize," he said. "I'm a ranger, remember? Neverwinter gets a little closed in after a while. I used to take off on a regular basis. I would disappear for weeks at a time, tripping through trails in the mountains around here. Lord Nasher was quite put out by it. He promised me that he would give me all the scouting jobs that came around, if I would just stay in town when I wasn't out on a mission. It's one of the reasons I'm here, instead of someone else. I like traveling the road from here to Neverwinter."

He held out his arm. "Can I escort you to Kana? She's got something she needs from you."

She graciously took his proffered arm and walked back up to the keep. Every step weighed her down, but she kept smiling. What choice did she have?


	5. Sunset

Acquisitions had been made, contracts signed, and another day of managing the keep was coming to a close. The shadow from the Mere was stretching outward, and she could feel its presence sliding up the coast. Events were happening more quickly now. There was no longer much time to rest and relax in between finding bits of the blade of Gith and figuring out how to destroy the King of Shadows. There was talk of finding the Shadow Reavers so they could test the names they'd found.

She sat at the table in the war room, looking over the latest troop reports. It didn't mean much to her, even with Casavir's explanation. She would have to trust him when he said it was good news. Elanee walked in and stood next to her.

"I hear you disappeared this morning, Kylie. And that when you returned, you were covered in leaves and sticks and barefoot. Keep that up and they'll be comparing you to me." She smiled at her friend.

"Aye. I found the most lovely grove of Rowans, north of here. I went there to feel the earth and talk to the trees. It was the best 2 hours I've spent in a long while." Her voice was wistful as she spoke. While she spoke her hands were busy stacking the papers neatly before her.

"Are you alright?" asked Elanee. "You seem pensive and distracted lately. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Can you take on the burden of this shard in my chest and reforge the sword of Gith?" Kylie's piercing blue eyes held the other druid in place, making her uncomfortable. Then she looked down at her papers. "I'm sorry Elanee, there's nothing you can do. Just be my friend, ok?"

Elanee touched her briefly on the head, saying, "Nature's blessings, friend druid."

Kylie returned the blessing and stood. Nevalle's shape darkened the doorway. Elanee gave her a knowing glance and left, leaving her alone with him. He crossed the distance and took up her hand in his and kissed it.

"I had a wonderful time last night," he said.

"So did I."

"Care to take a walk with me? The sun will set in an hour, and if we hurry, we can see it from a good location."

She looked puzzled, but smiled none the less and followed him. He led her through the keep to one of the lesser used sections. This part hadn't been repaired like the rest of the place, and debris and rocks were strewn about. The back part of the keep abutted up against the hills, and this room was near there. He opened a door and beyond it was a stone passage. She stepped through. Nevalle followed, shutting the door and throwing them into darkness.

A few ancient syllables were intoned into the air, and light flashed above her head.

"I remember this place," Kylie said, looking around. "It's the escape tunnel. The one we followed into the keep when we came here looking for Black Garius. I had forgotten that it led from the keep to the mountains."

Nevalle took her hand. "Yes, and there is a glorious view from up there, but we must hurry."

They walked quickly through the tunnel, her light spell making the passage easier to traverse. Some of the large vermin that had infested the place during her first trip were back, but they left her and Nevalle alone. The tunnel climbed up and up, and she began to feel giddy with apprehension.

Suddenly, the tunnel opened up into a small cave, and through the opening of the cave they spied the sun. It was low on the horizon, but by the looks of it they had half an hour before it set.

He led her to a rock outcropping that overlooked the valley below. A small mountain stream gurgled beside them, and the air smelled of pine rosin. A lonely falcon soared on the thermals high above them, looking for its night time meal. The air was still and heavy with the perfume of the trees. She closed her eyes and breathed deep.

Nevalle sat beside her, his arm encircling her waist and his other hand holding hers. She leaned back into him and felt content. The keep seemed far behind her.

"Watch now," he whispered into her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. Slowly, the orange orb of the sun sank behind the hills across the valley. Its final rays of light lit up the clouds in shades of deep crimson and purple. The colors were vibrant at first, and as the sun sank their vibrancy faded until they were a dull twilight gray. Still she sat there with Nevalle, soaking in his warmth as he held her. Then the light was gone. Stars began to peek out in the gloaming, shining forth one by one. In the background, crickets began to chirp.

"How did you…" she began, but was silenced by his finger on her lips. Then his lips were meeting hers in a crush of heat and passion. She turned to sink into his embrace, her desire fueled by the beauty of the sunset and his thoughtfulness at bringing her here. Then he was pulling back and looking at her face, lit up as it was by the newly risen moon.

"It seemed that you needed reminding of what it is that we fight for," he said quietly, still holding her. "And I knew you would like this place." Then he kissed her again, and any thought of the coming darkness was forgotten in his embrace.

In that immeasurable period of time that the kiss consumed, she was at peace. Her body was demanding that she surrender to him, and she was willing to do so. She wanted to do so. She thought of nothing, she only felt the desire of her flesh and the passion of his kiss. When he pulled back, she was confused at first, and then a little sad.

"We should be getting back," he said as he caressed her back. "The others…"

She put a finger to his lips. "Stay here tonight. With me. We'll sleep under the moonlight and forget about the keep for a while. Just one night." Her voice betrayed her by wavering a bit on that last word. She searched his face for some indication of his intent.

"Kylie," he began, and she could see that he was going to let her down. "I want to, believe me I want to more than anything. But I respect you too much. I don't want to have just a one night fling and then be forgotten."

"What makes you think it would **be** a one night thing? Or that you'd be forgotten? I'm just asking you to stay with me, out here. Can't you give me one night, Nevalle?" She placed her hand on his cheek, hoping beyond hope that he'd acquiesce and spend the night with her.

He hesitated, so she went on. "The keep, the responsibilities, they weigh on me, Nevalle. I feel half dead when I'm there, going over duty rosters with Kana and Casavir; checking supply lists with the sergeant; equipping the 'Cloaks and my friends. My days are consumed with the minutiae of running that place. I feel trapped in a stone prison. I didn't want this land. I didn't want these duties. But I accepted them, because I knew in my heart it was my destiny to do so. Now I'm not so sure I did the right thing. I know nothing of leading men into battle. I hold no hopes that I will survive the coming darkness. Tonight, I just want to be a woman, and spend the night with a man under the moonlight. Is that so much to ask?" Her impassioned plea left her breathless and vulnerable.

"No, it is not. But I will not take advantage of you, not in this fashion. I could not spend the night with you without wanting more than I should. More than I could ask of you, when so much is asked already. We should go back." He stood, holding out his hand to her.

She stood then, a cold fury burning in her eyes. "What if we both wanted it, Nevalle. Would you stay then?" Her fists were clenched at her sides. From out of the shadows stepped a lone wolf, who cautiously approached the rocks where they stood.

"My lady," he started, confused at her sudden change of countenance. Then he noticed the wolf and moved to block her from it.

"Don't worry, that is just Meliynn," Kylie said, her voice like the edge of a blade. "She is here to escort me to my destination this evening. You may return to the keep, Nevalle. I plan on staying here tonight." Her words were cold and steady, and her hands were already shaping a spell.

"Please come with me, Kylie," he implored her. Then his hands hung limply at his sides as he watched her face begin to elongate. She was growing fur all over her body, and her eyes began to yellow and take on the feral look of a wild animal. She let out a howl and sank onto all fours, her hands and feet replaced with the soft pads of a wolf. Her transformation complete, she cocked her head at him and then took off running, her animal companion close behind.

He watched her go, his heart aching. He had only wanted to do the right thing, and be chivalrous and kind. Every time he was near her he felt tingly inside, and an overwhelming ache to hold her overtook him. He had just wanted to court her properly; not rut like wild animals in the forest. But he had neglected her nature, and in doing so, might have cost himself her love.

For half the night, he sat there, waiting for her to come back. A few times he heard a rustling in the bushes and thought he spied a pair of yellow eyes staring at him. When he could barely keep his eyes open, he went back through the tunnel into the keep. He staggered into his rooms, hoping that in the morning she would return and he could make it up to her.


	6. Missing

_The sun rose the next morning, a baleful red disk hanging in the sky. It crept through the sky, like a hunter stalking an elusive target. It had nearly reached its halfway point in its daily traverse before Nevalle began to get worried. He had busied himself with the men, giving them some additional training and observing their formations. Then he had gone to eat lunch and realized the hour._

_He approached Casavir with his plate of food. "May I sit and speak with you, Casavir?" he asked. _

"_Certainly, Sir Nevalle," replied the paladin. Then he went back to eating his meal. _

_Nevalle knew this was going to be a difficult conversation. Casavir had confessed his feelings towards Kylie to him the previous week. He had been seeking advice on how to proceed and act on those feelings. Nevalle had had no advice to give. Now he was going to have to tell Casavir what had been going on between himself and the druid before he could enlist his help in finding her. He knew the paladin was not going to be happy, and might even feel betrayed._

_Nevalle cleared his throat. "Casavir, I have something I need to talk to you about."_

_The paladin looked up from his meal, surprised by the seriousness on the knight's face._

_Nevalle took a deep breath. There was nothing for it but to begin. "I want you to know that I have the greatest respect for you. I admire your dedication to the Captain and the task before her. I also want you to know that I didn't plan for things to happen the way they have."_

_Casavir had sat back in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest. Confusion reigned on his face. "What are you talking about?" he asked._

_Nevalle looked directly into his eyes. "The other night, in the tavern, Kylie expressed an… interest in me. Last night, I took her for a walk to see the sunset. She asked me to spend the night with her." He looked down at his hands, fiddling with his fork on the table. "I turned her down. It wasn't that I didn't want to, but I wanted to be able to court her properly. I thought she'd understand. She didn't." _

_Casavir looked like he was barely keeping his anger in check. His demeanor turned icy as he said, "And why are you telling me this, Sir Nevalle?"_

_He looked up at the paladin, fully aware that he deserved the other's man's anger. "Because after I turned her down, she shifted into a wolf and ran off into the mountains. She hasn't returned." He continued to hold his gaze with the paladin, hoping the man would see past the betrayal of his trust to the larger problem at hand._

_Casavir sat there in stony silence, glaring at the knight in front of him. When he spoke, his tone evoked the chill that was ever-present in the Spine of the North. "Then you obviously don't know her very well. I've never known her to be gone for an entire night, but she often disappears for half a day or so to commune with Nature. She will return before nightfall. Excuse me, but I must go." The paladin stood up, his bulk dwarfing Nevalle._

_All that long, long day Nevalle tried to occupy himself with his duties. He prepared reports for Lord Nasher: he ran inventories of food and supplies; he spoke with the farmers about the crops. Anything he could think of to distract himself. But the hours ticked by slowly. He found himself walking by her rooms a dozen times, peering within to see if she was there. He asked everyone if they'd seen her. No one seemed to worry. They all told him she'd return before nightfall – she always did._

_The battlements of the keep were patrolled by a few lone 'Cloaks. Nevalle found his way up there as the last rays of the setting sun illuminated the keep. Searching the distant fields and hills in vain, he looked for any sign of her. Dark had fallen, and she was still absent. His shoulders sank, his will sank further. If she had abandoned her post here, it would be his fault. The shadow would consume the land, and he would be to blame_.

OOO

The Phoenix was humming along nicely. Energy, fueled by desperation and booze, filled the air. Bishop sat in his customary spot, sharpening his dagger on a whetstone. He was watching, always watching. The Captain hadn't been seen all day. That was an anomaly. The tavern door opened, and in walked Nevalle of the Nine. Bishop scowled. He had seen him being friendly with the druid a few nights ago. It wasn't something he wanted to think about. He watched as the knight approached his table and sat down across from him.

"Something you need?" he asked, his voice growling out the words.

"Yes. Kylie's missing."

Well, the knight was short and to the point at least. That was one thing in his favor. If rumor served correctly, this particular knight was actually a ranger. That would have to be another point in his favor.

"And that is my concern how?" Bishop said, drawing his blade across the stone.

"I want you to help me find her. I know you're an excellent tracker. I figured with two of us looking, we'd find her faster than with just me."

Bishop laid down the stone and his dagger and looked the other man directly in the eye. "Is it your fault she's missing, Knight?"

He had to give the man credit – he didn't flinch at all.

"Yes, I believe it is. I also know that you have more than a passing interest in her. Help me find her."

"It'll be harder to find her in the dark. Especially if she's shifted into some animal or something. We should wait until daylight." He picked his dagger back up and resumed sharpening it. "Why is it your fault?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the blade in his hands.

"I don't think that's any of your business!"

"Oh, but it is, if you think I'm going to help you. Let's just consider it payment for my services."

Nevalle glared at him, his face turning a bright shade of crimson. Bishop chuckled to himself. "Fine. She asked me to spend the night with her in the mountains. I turned her down. She got upset, shifted into a wolf, and took off into the night. Happy?"

"Huh. So she did shift into a wolf." Bishop stopped sharpening his dagger long enough to fix Nevalle with a hard stare. "We'll never find her, and you know that, Knight. She's a druid. A wolf isn't the only form she can take. We won't know what to look for. If she doesn't want to be found, she won't be."

"I know that, Bishop. What I want to do is go out there and give her the opportunity to be found. Besides, we have the wolf tracks to follow first. It would be an easy thing to track them to where she turned into something else, if she did."

"Don't know much about tracking a druid, do you? What if she transported via plant? They can you know." He sat back in his chair, running his hands through his hair. "No. We won't find her. It would be best to wait until she comes wandering back into the keep; leaves and sticks in her hair and a wild look on her face. If she comes back at all."

_Nevalle grabbed the ranger by the leather on his chest and looked him directly in the eye. He wasn't going to take no for an answer from this man. "You will help me find her, tonight. Or so help me Bishop, you'll be sorry." He poured all the menace and loathing that he could into his voice, hoping that a threat would serve to motivate Bishop into action._

"_Let me go," the other man said, his voice rising in anger. Nevalle let him go, patting down his chest as he did._

"_I'll help you track her. I just wanted to go on the record saying that she won't be found, unless it's what **she** wants."_

"_Understood. Meet me in an hour in the back of the library."_


	7. Meeting Bishop

Surprisingly, Bishop was quite prompt. Exactly an hour later, he was there at the back of the library with his wolf Karnwyr in tow. A quiver was slung over his shoulder and his knife was back on its customary strap.

"Mind telling me why we're meeting in the library?" he asked.

"Follow me," Nevalle said, opening the stone door that led into the escape tunnel.

OOO

Several hours later, Bishop stood in a small clearing under the moonlight. He had lied to Nevalle – it was possible to track a druid. It was just damn hard. Especially in the dark. The moonlight had helped though, and he had managed to track her to this clearing. Nevalle had taken off after another potential trace, and Bishop was alone. Well, not entirely alone: Karnwyr was with him, helping him sniff out traces of the wolf Kylie had become.

He sat there, enjoying a little respite from the search, having a little bite to eat and drinking from his canteen. Something rustled through the bushes in front of him. Out from behind the bushes stepped a lone wolf, her yellow eyes gleaming in the dark. Karnwyr wasn't growling though, and Bishop knew it was Kylie. He kept eating the little bit of jerky he had until it was gone. He brushed his hands together and looked at her.

"So, you left the poor Knight in quite a tizzy last night. Serves him right for turning you down."

The wolf cocked its head at him, a low growl emanating from its throat.

"I wouldn't have, you know. Make the same offer to me, and you'll be a happy woman. Or at least a satisfied one. You know, I don't understand what you see in him. Why burden yourself with someone like him? You could have me – no attachments to cloud your judgment; and I love the forest."

The wolf before him began to shimmer. Its back legs elongated, taking on a feminine shape. Paws turned back into hands and feet, the head shortened and sprouted a shock of short brown hair. The ears shrank a little, but kept their pointy tips. Soon, Kylie was standing before him in all her half-elven glory.

Another wolf came out of the woods behind her, stopping and letting the druid scratch it behind the ears. She leaned down and whispered something to the wolf, and it slunk back into the forest.

"Did you come out looking for me by yourself?" she asked, absently brushing some leaves out of her hair.

"No. I wouldn't have come looking for you at all. I was enjoying a nice pint at the Phoenix when the knight came in all a-flutter about how you'd disappeared and it was all his fault."

She laughed, her voice a tinkling sound like water bubbling over rocks in a small mountain stream. "So Nevalle is out here too, looking. And you are the one who found my trail."

"Yes. Tried to tell him it would be difficult to track you, especially at night. He didn't seem to care. Said something about giving you the opportunity to be found." He offered her a piece of jerky, which she took.

"Yet you managed, didn't you."

"In the end, you're the one that found me."

"True, but you were on the right track. You would have found me eventually. Is the keep in an uproar?"

"Don't know. Don't much care. Just wanted to make sure I didn't have to be out here tomorrow looking for two lost people."

"I wasn't lost."

"I know that. But I doubt anyone would have felt comfortable with you being gone tomorrow."

"What makes you think I'm coming back with you now?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

"Maybe I'm just here to make you an offer you once made me, back in Neverwinter."

Bishop stepped close to her, taking in the mountain scent of her and the sparkle in her eyes. He leaned down and kissed her hard, on the lips. At first she resisted, but then she yielded to his embrace, wrapping her arms around him. His tongue flicked out, probing her lips. She opened her mouth to him, kissing him back with all the passion any man could ask for. Then she was pulling away, breathing a little heavier than she had been before the kiss.

He was still holding her close, and he said in a low, husky voice, "Come with me. We'll camp out in the woods for a year or two and forget all about the Shadow King." She reached up and caressed his face with the back of her hand, and then she stepped out of his arms.

"That would be the offer," she said quietly.

"Would you take me up on it now?" he asked, just as quietly, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Bishop, you don't know how tempting that offer is. How tempting it was then, too. I would like nothing more than to disappear into the wilderness, sloughing off the responsibility and the title and the lands they've bestowed on me. Melting into the song of the trees and the wind – going where I want, when I want. Or feeling free to speak with the trees for days on end. But I wouldn't give anything for that. There are some things that are worth fighting for. There are some things that are worth dying for."

The intensity of her words burned into him, and he understood the truth. She had needed to disappear into the mountains and live with the animals for a day, but she would be returning to the constraints of the keep. She would return to Nevalle and forgive him. The kiss they'd shared would be all he would get from her. There would be no fevered groping in the night for him. Not with her.

She reached up and embraced him once more. A soft whisper in his ear, "I'll understand if you leave. Know that under other circumstances, I would gladly follow you into the forest. But I can't. I'm sorry." Then she was stepping away and morphing back into the wolf. There was one last baleful look from those yellow eyes, and she was gone. He knew she was off to find the knight.

He threw his canteen in anger. Why was he even here? Traveling with her had been exhilarating at first, but now it was dangerous. There wasn't even the possibility, now, that she would come to him, seeking the comforts a man could give. He howled in rage at the sky and sank to his knees. Something had been stirring in the depths of his heart. It had scared him, but at the same time he had hoped… what? That she would fall in love with him and they would live happily ever after? That was never going to happen – it wasn't even what he'd wanted. He didn't know what he'd wanted from her. He shouldn't have expected that anyone would ever trust him enough to love him. Broken men like him weren't the trustworthy sort.

The canteen was hard to find, but by the time he found it his rage had cooled and coalesced within his chest. Thoughts circled in his head, each one more poisonous than the last. She had told him he could leave. What if he stayed? Then he could take the time to exact some unseen vengeance on her for stringing him on like this. He could figure out the best way to wound her to the quick. Nodding his head, Bishop grabbed his canteen and headed back to the keep.


	8. Meeting Nevalle

_Nevalle sat on a log that crossed a small mountain stream. He thought he'd been following the right tracks, but the wolves he found turned out to be of the regular variety. They hadn't been happy to see him, but luckily for him his ranger prowess with animals kept them from attacking. Bishop had been right. Druids were difficult to track – impossible in the dark. He'd have to start over in the daylight when the signs would be easier to read._

_He felt a prickling in his mind, as if he was being watched. Too many years in the wilderness on patrols and scouting missions had given him a wicked sixth sense. He whipped his head around towards the direction from which he felt the threat. There was a solitary wolf standing in the moonlight not 10 feet from him. He sighed, his shoulders relaxing from a tension he hadn't been aware of feeling. A solitary wolf. It had to be her. He hoped it was her._

"_Kylie? I'm really sorry about last night. I didn't understand what you needed. I thought I was being kind and chivalrous. I thought it was what you wanted. Then I realized that you weren't some painted court harpy, trying to play some game to win my affections for the night and trap me for life. I hope you will accept my apology; and my heartfelt admission that I behaved like an ass."_

_The wolf began walking towards him, and with each step the wolf looked less and less like a canine and more and more like Kylie. By the time she reached him, she was fully herself. She flung herself into his arms, kissing him fervently and pressing her body against his. _

"_Apology accepted," she muttered into his lips when the kiss was over._

_Nevalle held her face in both of his hands and brushed back a few stray hairs that had fallen into her eyes. There was some indefinable quality that hung around her. She wasn't the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But her aura; her soul was her true beauty. She was strong and resilient and didn't take crap from anybody, unless she had a reason. Smiling, he bent down and kissed her on the lips. Her body sagged into his, melting against him; joining her desire with his. _

"_I'll spend this night with you, in the moonlight, if you wish it," he whispered into her ear. Then he was kissing her again, holding back nothing. It didn't seem appropriate to withhold his desire and affection any more. Not in the face of the coming shadow. _

She pulled back from him a bit, taking his hand. "Follow me," she said lightly. She pulled him through the scant forest; in and out of glades dappled by the moonlight. They were climbing up the mountain steadily. After twenty minutes or so, they came to a circular meadow. The opening was about 30 feet across and ringed by trees. There was a pale stone set in the middle of the meadow and it seemed to glow in the moonlight.

As they entered the clearing, Nevalle felt a power sleeping there. It raised the hair on his arms and brushed the cobwebs of fatigue from his mind. The meadow was humming and thrumming at some level that he couldn't hear – he could only feel the power flowing through this place.

Kylie led him to the stone in the center of the clearing. Circling the stone, she let her fingers trail along its edge. There was a reverence in her eyes for this place. When she spoke, her voice seemed far away, but it too thrummed with the power that was latent here.

"I found this place last night. It's a mystical, sacred place. Can't you feel the power here?" She walked over to him and stood next to him, breathing deeply. "I believe it used to be the focus of some powerful magic. Perhaps it was a druid's grove. It doesn't quite look like any that I've seen, but the energy feels right."

The stone in front of them began to pulse as she climbed on top of it to stand in the center, her arms upraised. The moonlight fell on her face and body, making her unbleached robe glow. Then a curious thing happened: it seemed to Nevalle that part of the moon flowed down into her. Her face became terrifying and beautiful: she became the most beautiful and powerful thing he had ever seen.

A deep intonation came from her throat and the stone beneath her feet pulsed with its rhythm. She was chanting the same tone over and over, and a light suffused her countenance. Then she was pulling him up onto the stone. The radiance that had become part of her was flowing between them, and he felt a power enter into him.

They stood there, pulsing with light and gazing into each others eyes. His clothing seemed to him to be an unnatural thing, so he removed it. Kylie had taken her robe off too, the trappings of civilization forgotten at the base of the stone. A quiet, frantic passion grabbed them both, and they almost forgot themselves as they coupled on the stone. It seemed to them both that they were possessed by something that was larger than both of them, and yet was them at the same time.

Spent, they lay there on the dolmen, warm from their passion and the exertion of their act. Neither spoke – it was enough to lie in each other's arms and gaze at the stars and the moon. Lying there, the power within them slowly seeped into the stone and they became simply human again. But they both felt a connection had been made. A bond between the two of them had been forged, and they would not be able to break it.

The remainder of the night played out. The moon set, the stars twinkled in the firmament and the air around them grew cold. They did not sleep, but drowsed in some semi-lucent state between waking and dreaming. The sky in the east began to lighten, and they knew the sun would rise soon. They took this as their cue to resume their normal lives, instead of the supernatural life they had witnessed last night.

As Kylie was dressing, she found herself thinking on the aspect Nevalle had taken on just a few hours earlier.

"What god do you worship?" she asked, hoping it sounded off hand enough that he wouldn't get offended.

"Silvanus. Why?"

"Well, I worship Silvanus too. I think that last night, he somehow blessed us with some of his power. That would explain the light and the way that I felt, anyway. It makes sense. Maybe it was his way of telling us that what we're doing is right. Reaffirming us in our fight against the King of Shadows. If he has blessed us, then maybe it isn't as hopeless as I thought."

Nevalle walked over to her and grasped her with both hands. "Your task isn't hopeless, Kylie. Maybe what happened last night was just for us, and no one else." Then he kissed her forehead and held her close to him, breathing in her woodsy scent.

"I hope you're right. But I can't shake the feeling that I won't be coming back from the Vale of Meirdeleinn."

"You won't be alone. I am going to travel with you and keep you safe," he murmured into her hair.

Alarmed she pulled back from him. "Nevalle, you can't! You have your own part to play in this saga, and it isn't traveling with me! If anything, last night just confirmed what I've suspected all along. I am destined to fight the King of Shadows. It has been my destiny since I was impaled with this shard," she pulled down her robe and pointed to the white scar on her chest. "I haven't had a free choice in the matter since I left West Harbor. The companions I've drawn in to help me, the paths I've followed, the choices I've made have all been towards a greater goal of defeating the corrupted guardian.

You are not meant to be in the final battle with me, Nevalle. The others are. You have to stay here, marshal the forces and protect Neverwinter and the outlying communities." She stepped back into his arms. "You are here to help me, but not by traveling with me."

"I don't want to see you hurt!"

"That's not up to us. It never has been. Our destinies were chosen for us long ago by powers greater than ourselves. Once I return from the Vale, if it is meant for me to return, then my destiny will be my own. But until that time, I have a task to perform. I am the only one who can wield the sword of Gith – the only one who can defeat the King of Shadows. You are here to bolster me by being the strength that I can fall back on. The reason for me to come back. The reason for me to live…" Her voice grew to a whisper in the last few words she spoke. She had understood it all, lying on the dolmen, wrapped in Nevalle's arms. The knowledge was fading, but her conviction was not.

"Come. We should return to Crossroad Keep. They are waiting for us."

She turned to leave and Nevalle shot out a hand to grab her.

"Wait. There are a few things I have to tell you first." He took a deep breath and grabbed both her hands. "I told Casavir that you asked me to spend the night with you. He is mad right now. I don't know if he's mad at me, or you, or both of us. But he's mad and I thought you should know.

Second, Bishop was out here with me, looking for you. He could still be lurking around."

She smiled sadly and shook her head. "No, I ran into Bishop first, before I came to find you. I sent him back to the keep. I don't think he's particularly happy with me either. But I couldn't choose him, knowing that he is going to betray me no matter what."

"What? No, I don't want to know. The third thing I wanted to tell you is this," he pulled her closer so her hands rested on his chest and his arms wrapped around the small of her back. "I love you, Kylie. I want to be with you. When all this is over: the King of Shadows is defeated and you have returned from the Vale, I want to be with you for a long, long time." His lips met hers in a slow deliberate kiss.

"I'd like that," she said, smiling at him. Then she stepped back. "But now, we need to return. I'm sure that Kana is pulling her hair out about some niggling little thing that I have to sign; Sand and Qara are probably at each other's throats; Khelgar will be drunk if we don't get down there soon; Bishop is sulking and Casavir is probably berating some poor regiment of 'Cloaks."

Kylie stretched out her hand, and Nevalle took it. They walked, hand in hand, back down the mountain and into the old escape tunnel. For the two hours it took them to walk back, they existed only for each other. No words were spoken, but it seemed that they spoke volumes; lived lifetimes together. It passed too quickly.

As they reached the door that led into the keep, she turned to him. "When this is all over, I plan to relinquish the title, the lands and my nobility back to Neverwinter. I never wanted it. I plan to roam around the countryside, just being a druid for a while. Will you come with me? Will you eschew the life of one of Nasher's Nine for a year or two?"

"If it means spending that time with you, I would gladly give back my tunic. I would do that for you, and for myself." He smiled at her, brushing the leaves from her hair and straightening up tousled hair. "All right, my lady. You have a keep to run. Are you ready?"

She brought her hand up to his face, caressing his cheek. "I'll always be ready as long as you're here with me."

Then she squared her shoulders and opened the door. Nobody saw them at first, since the door was in the storage room behind the library. Once they entered the library proper, all hell broke loose. Sand was immediately inquiring where she'd been, Aldanon had some sage advice about the Shadow Reavers, and somehow Kana picked just that moment to walk into the room and saw her standing there. The relief on the other woman's face was palpable. Kylie smiled at Nevalle and walked forward, handling the problems and irritations as a good captain should.

It wasn't what she had wanted out of her life. The hustle and bustle of caring for a keep and the people that it contained was more civilized than she had wanted to be. But these stone walls were the anchors of her home. It wasn't a place, but a state of being. She was finally comfortable in her role here, and because of that, she had finally come home.


End file.
